


Roll at the Rink

by 666fps



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Achievement Hunters, Breaking and Entering, Fake AH Crew, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, R & R Connection - Freeform, Raywood, Semi-Public Sex, Shotgunning, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 05:41:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7745407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/666fps/pseuds/666fps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The R'n'R Connection breaks into the roller rink so Ray can grind some sick gnarly rails my dude.</p>
<p>More smut (which is pretty much the only thing I ever write) featuring Puerto Rican Thunder and The Mad King.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roll at the Rink

It was nearing three in the morning, close to the fabled Witching Hour. Somewhere down in Backlot a gas station was still burning, courtesy of one Mogar Jones - _Michael, you didn’t have to blow up the entire fucking thing - Fuck you, dude, it’s funny_ \- and no doubt there would be news coverage the following morning about the fiasco. The late-night air was mild, a warm Summer evening, lightning bugs drifting in and out of reality in the darkness of the hills of Vinewood. A long day, a good heist, some rest well deserved - so, why the Vagabond was putting on his shoes was something of an enigma.  
  
Ten minutes prior, it had started like this:  
  
"Yo, put your shoes on dude, I wanna' go to Rollerdoo's."  
"Where." Not even a question.  
"Uhh, _Rollerdoo's?_ The coolest roller skating place in the city? C'mon, I wanna' take the motorcycle."  
"Ray," Ryan was so exasperated from saying the sniper's name alone. The kid really had a death wish. "It's almost three in the morning, can't we just-"  
"Why do you hate fun?"  
  
Ray stood in the threshold of Ryan's bedroom, his arms folded over his chest. He had cleaned up after the heist, more or less. Something had hit him in the cheek bone and left a razor-thin line in his perfectly brown skin. There was still some blood on the hem of his sweatshirt. One shoe was untied. These were things that Ray did not care about; his one prerogative now was to go to the roller skating rink and grind his skateboard down the safety fence.  
  
"Rye, it'll be fun, I promise, we can-"  
"Last time you told me that we would have _fun_ together you made me help you make a fourteen page Power Point about how Santa could beat Peter Pan in a fight."  
"Dude, fun _and_ educational, aren't you supposed to like that sort of shit?"  
" _What_ is educational about- You know what, fine, _okay_ , god damn it Ray."  
  
Ray could have jumped into the air, a grin breaking across his face so hard it looked painful. He was out of the room in half a second, already going to his own and grabbing a guitar bag. Ray had never held a guitar in his entire life, but the bags could fit sniper rifles, skateboards, and the proper tools to make a decent gravity bong.  
The enigma in question was why Ryan followed Ray mostly wherever he went. Midnight trips to Taco Bell to buy a slushie, the laundromat to ride around in those cool little laundry carts, the beach to shoot at seagulls when no one else was around- and now Rollerdoo's, a place that Ryan could have gone the rest of his life without ever visiting, much less knowing about at all. The rest of the Crew would say that Ryan liked Ray's company, that they had crushes on each other and that the R&R Connection was a train that had no brakes. Ray would say it was good weed.  
  
Even in the slightly muggy air, Ray had his sweatshirt on. The hood was covering his head and he stood by the front door, both hands on the handle of the guitar bag around his shoulders.  
"I'm ready for school, Mom," Ray deadpanned, looking up at Ryan. The gent sighed, reaching up under his mask to rub his face in irritation. He had decided to forgo the face paint. The tail-end of his hair hung out in a curl around his collar bone.  
"One hour," Ryan said. "And then we're coming back home."  
"Does that include driving time? 'Cause it takes like, ten minutes to get there, dude, and I don't wanna' lose any sweet grinds."  
"... Get the fuck outside."  
  
Ray loved riding the motorcycle for many reasons. Watching the city go by at fifty miles per hour was a thrill way more visceral than scooting around on his skateboard or riding the Faggio. At any second they could crash and there wouldn't be much left of Brownman besides the pink bandanna he had pulled up over his nose, his only disguise. Another reason was that the vibrations of the bike underneath him felt cool on his junk. Mostly, he got to touch Ryan and had an excuse for it - not that he needed one. The helmet prevented him from wearing his glasses and his head was turned to the side, gazing at the lights that melted by. Ryan's body was strong against his and he leaned into the turns. Sometimes Ryan's hand would fall from the clutch and graze over the tiny, brown fingers on his stomach. Just sometimes.  
  
Rollerdoo's was ten minutes away from Geoff's penthouse in Vinewood Hills. Much closer to the city, the fancy buildings gave way to what Los Santos really was; hookers wandering around the streets and cats with eyeballs missing. Ray was pretty sure he saw a person roaming the streets wearing nothing but a slingkini. Home sweet home.  
Rollerdoo's had long since shut down for the night, the neon sign turned off. It was a liminal space at night, reality warped by the fact that it was completely empty and silent.  
  
The CarbonRS hummed to a stop beneath them. The parking lot was still a little wet from when it had showered earlier, and one of the street lights was blinking on and off sporadically. Ray slid off of the bike first, taking a few quick steps as he found his balance. Ryan put the kick stand down and pulled from the vehicle easily, pocketing the keys. From his jacket, he removed Ray's glasses and traded them for the helmet that Ryan had put on the lad's head.  
  
"So you can break into this place, right?" Ray looked up at Ryan with no expression on his face. The gent opened his mouth, visibly about to scream even under the mask, and Ray started laughing. It was one of Ryan's favorite sounds.  
"I'm kidding, man, don't get your panties in a bunch." Ray was on the move and Ryan followed, sighing quietly. He wasn't nearly as annoyed as he made himself out to be. Putting on a front was easy; admitting that he enjoyed shenanigans with Ray was not.  
  
Somehow the sniper resisted the urge to hum the James Bond theme as he sauntered on up to the main entrance of the building. It was unlit inside completely apart from the weak, red glow of the EXIT signs posted above some of the doorways. He cupped his hands to the glass and pressed his nose against it.  
"Good news, we have the rink to ourselves, Rye-bread."  
" _Hooray._ "  
From his pants - rather the waistband of his boxer briefs - Ray produced a few thin rods of metal on a key chain. Two of them were shoved inside of the measly excuse for a lock, and after some wriggling, the door clicked open. Ray stuffed the item back down his pants and opened the door, humming pleasurably.  
  
Indeed they had the rink to themselves, which shouldn't have been surprising. They entered the main lobby together, the carpet beneath their feet reminiscent of that of a 90s bowling alley, strange squiggles and shapes that looked like a Jackson Pollock painting. Past the main lobby, the location of Ray's dreams; Rollerdoo's skating rink.  
It was like any of the other ones in the city, really. Why Ray was fond of this one was completely unknown; perhaps because the building had a security camera system that was easy to destroy. The two of them headed a bit deeper into the rink, Ray pushing past the door that read 'employees only' to get to the office room where the cameras were kept.  
  
"Do you think any teenagers on their Summer jobs have fucked in this office?"  
"I hope not."  
"Wanna' christen it?"  
"You're not a teenager. Just because you act like you're sixteen doesn't mean you are."  
"Ouch, Rye-bread. That would have hurt my feelings if I had any."  
"You have one feeling, and it's in your pants."  
"Touché."  
  
Bending over the desk, Ray messed around with the computer for a little while. The security system was easy to destroy only because Ray could tear the wires apart, smash the tapes, and it would be taken care of. The lad lacked finesse, to say the least.  
Taking the tape out, Ray dropped it on the carpet and removed his guitar bag. He produced his skateboard, a sturdy thing without any sort of personality to it. There were no baseball jokes as he brought the board down on the VHS tape a few times, reducing it to plastic rubble.  
"Gimmie' your knife, babe."  
Ray accepted the item from Ryan and crawled under the desk, gripping some of the wires. With a quick slash, those were rendered useless as well.  
"You've been here before, have you?"  
"Oh yeah," Ray said, getting out from beneath the desk, pulling his hood back up from where it had been knocked off. "I don't know why they keep replacing all the wires and shit, I've done this seven times."  
"You've kept track?"  
"Are you surprised?"  
A moment of thought. "I suppose not."  
  
In the corner of the office was the intercom and radio system. Considering Ray was not a fan of disco or radio music, he took the CD out of the boombox and put his own audio cable into the device. Once his phone was hooked into it, he shuffled through it before settling on some music.  
"Really? You want to play music while you do this?"  
"Again, why do you hate fun? Also check this shit out."  
Flipping a switch, the rink was suddenly alight. Ray could see it through the two-way window of the office, a disco ball flickering to life and beginning to slowly rotate, painting the rink in white stars of light. Beams of all colors shot down, moving gently back and forth across the floor, swimming patterns on the lacquered wood.  
"Is that or is that not the coolest shit you've ever seen?" Ray asked, beaming up at the Vagabond, who was actually breaking a short-lived chuckle.  
"I don't know, the gas station blowing up tonight was pretty cool."  
Ray fucking _pouted_ of all things, though it was mostly hidden behind the bandanna. Ryan still recognized the expression, the upward knit of his eyebrows and the way his hands balled into fists.  
"Alright, alright. It is very cool, Brownman." Ryan reached over, ruffling the top of Ray's head over the hood. The pout was gone.  
  
Sitting on one of the tables near the rink, Ray was in the process of tying his shoe. Ryan sat in the booth, staring at the rink with feigned disinterest. Life was strange. A few months ago it was just him, Geoff, Gavin and Jack, four Fakes tearing up Los Santos then going home to have a family dinner. Team Better Friends showed up, and things changed. Now Ryan was sitting beside Ray at three in the morning at Roller-yo's or whatever, watching the lad struggle to tie his shoe.  
"I should get you shoes with Velcro straps," Ryan mused.  
"Only if they light up when I walk."  
Leaning over, Ryan gently pushed Ray's hand aside and fixed the knot for him. The kid could take out a soda can from almost a mile away, but he owned one pair of shoes and barely knew how to tie them.  
A thanks would have been in order, but Ray settled for leaning in and kissing the forehead of Ryan's mask with a loud smacking noise. Grabbing the skateboard from off the table, Ray made his way to the rink, opening the gate and leaving it hanging.  
"Do you have a helmet?" Ryan asked, a droplet of concern in his voice.  
"Nope." Ray was off. A few quick steps and he threw the board down then was on top of it, cruising seamlessly and quietly. There were many skate parks throughout the city, places he could do tricks in, but all of that was just so _legal,_ it wasn't any fun. They also didn't have a bitching disco ball.  
  
Above, some mellow sounding rap tune was playing. Not exactly Ryan's taste, but it reminded the gent of the lad and there was some comfort in it. Their relationship was easy. They didn't express their feelings through words, just acts- Ray bringing home extra cases of Diet Coke or Ryan plugging in Ray's 3DS when the battery was low. Despite Ryan's normal penchant for dramatics and theater, it slipped through his fingers when it came to the sniper, and it was fine with him.  
Ray had a good mastery of the board beneath his feet. The music was just loud enough to drown out the sound of the wheels rolling, as well as Ray's quiet mumbling in tune with the song. Ray wasn't exactly the musical type - though he knew all the words to _Careless Whisper_ and would sing them as often as possible - but once he started becoming a regular at his usual skate park of choice, the rap music that the teenagers listened to had started to grow on him, much to his own dismay. At least it gave him more material for the weed jokes he liked to make so much.  
  
Time passed in a comfortable silence. Ray would do tricks to show off and Ryan would roll his eyes. At one point the gent drifted from his seat in the booth, moving over to one of the claw machine games. After two tries, he managed to win a creature that was vaguely close to a nutcracker. He could give it to Gavin for Christmas.  
Ryan was on his way to sitting back down when he heard a small 'whoops'. The board beneath Ray's feet faltered and his ankle twisted slightly. As the skateboard rocketed into the air at mach five, Ray landed on his back with a little thump and stayed there. Ryan raised a brow, watching for any signs of life.  
"Are you alright?" No response.  
Ryan felt a minute pang of worry and climbed easily over the short fence, his steps heavy as they came towards the figure laying on the ground.  
  
When he got there, Ray's eyes were open, looking up at the ceiling.  
"Do you think if you jacked off while high it would be called weedwhacking or masturblazing?" Ryan could have strangled him. He took a deep breath, counted to three, and sat down next to the grounded lad. Ray reached over, resting his hand on top of Ryan's fingers. The gent turned their palms and took Ray's hand, holding it loosely.  
"These are important questions, babe."  
"Ray-"  
"Maybe we could make another Power Point about-"  
Ryan's other hand had come out and closed gently over Ray's mouth, thumb hooking under his jaw to shut it.  
"Some mysteries were never meant to be solved." Ryan was smirking under the mask now and Ray could hear it. Eventually, the hand withdrew.  
Still holding Ryan's hand, Ray's other pulled up his hoodie some, showing off the fuzzy pout of his stomach, the happy trail that vanished beneath his boxer briefs. Stuffed into the band of his pants was an aluminum tin for breath mints that Ray pulled out, head tilted up slightly as he set the item down on his stomach.  
"Your jeans have pockets, you know," Ryan said, having seen him do this before, but it never failed to confuse him just a little.  
"One time the tin fell out and I lost three joints worth of Blueberry Widow. Never again, dude." It seemed fair enough to Ryan. He watched as Ray took one of the joints from the tin, the rolling paper decorated in tiny strawberries. Still laying on his back, he pursed it in his lips and brought the lighter to the end of the joint. Ray took a long, deep inhale, his eyes shutting as the smoke filled his lungs. He held it there as he offered it to the gent, who just shook his head.  
"Not tonight," Ryan said. Sometimes he would indulge, sometimes not. He wasn't usually a fan of smoking when they weren't at home. Something about driving the motorcycle while stoned out of his mind was less than appealing to him, and Ray didn't push. _More for me,_ he would say, then make a silly face as he took another drag.  
  
The smoke that ghosted around the space between them was thick with the heady scent of marijuana traced with fruit, another thing that Ryan had started to associate with the littlest lad. Turning his head, Ray gently blew the ashes onto the floor and continued to smoke, his hand getting heavier beneath Ryan's. The first sign of him being high was a smile; very tiny but unmistakable. Ryan could see it now, the bandanna having been tugged off and left to hang on his neck, the corners of Ray's mouth turned up barely a millimeter. Then it would soften his eyes, turning his gaze milky and gentle behind the glasses. His gaze would linger on something and he would start to laugh. Each time it went right to Ryan's heart and he felt himself smiling, too.  
  
"Done skating?"  
"You in a hurry, Vagabond?"  
"Not really." Ryan began to shift, moving on top of the sniper. There were knees pressed into his hips, both of Ryan's hands on either side of his head. The mask was staring him in the face and Ray huffed.  
Grabbing it at the bottom, Ray rolled it up slowly before taking the rubber from his head and tossing it in the general direction of where his board had left the atmosphere. There were some stray hairs around Ryan's face, his eyes narrowed just slightly. The gent was smiling in a way that warmed Ray's chest _and_ his balls. Double prizes.  
Ray took another drag, holding it deep in his chest. A hand came up and hooked into Ryan's lower lip, tugging down until his jaw opened and Ray leaned up, carefully pressing their lips together and closing the gaps as he exhaled. Ryan breathed in, knowing that one shotgun wasn't going to do anything to him. Besides, it felt nice, and he knew that it made Ray's knees weak. Ryan breathed out through his nose and they were kissing gently, soft sounds made by the feel of their lips sucking against each other.  
  
They stayed like that for awhile, losing oxygen and pressing into each others mouths. Ryan liked to swipe his tongue along Ray's lower lip before catching it in his own two and giving a gentle pull, bringing their heads back. The sniper had slightly less control, biting at Ryan whenever he got the chance. It led to Ryan's hand coming up and closing over Ray's throat, softly at first, pressing in whenever Ray would nip at him. The light choke didn't really make Ray stop; if anything, he just bit harder, letting out weak noises that made the hairs on the back of Ryan's neck stand up. Ryan wanted to protect him, wrap his arms around the sniper and shower him in tiny kisses. He also wanted to hear him scream.  
  
"What happened to not breaking this place in?" Ray was a little breathless, pulling back to speak.  
"This isn't the office." They were back at it again, Ryan's hands finding Ray's and holding them down on the cool wood of the floor. The deeper they kissed, the more Ray arched, and soon his hips had started to rut.  
One hand left Ray's and moved down, nails grazing over the exposed stomach before pushing up under his hoodie and sweatshirt. Ray's newly-freed hand was in Ryan's hair, fisting loosely as Ryan found the lad's nipple. He rolled the bud gently between his knuckle and thumb, liking the way it turned Ray's voice a little throaty, drew in hisses through his clenched teeth.  
"You like this?" Ryan hummed, tugging at the skin until Ray's back started to arch and he let out a smoldering whine, nodding a few times.  
"Yeah," Ray said, his voice starting to get raspy. Ryan was pleased. His head dipped down and found Ray's throat, pulling the bandanna off in an easy yank before his teeth went in. Ray mewled, tempted to cover his mouth, but knowing Ryan liked to hear him. Ray was terribly noisy to begin with, so Ryan was never disappointed.  
  
Aside from the marijuana smell, Ray's skin was a spicy sweet that was more than intoxicating to the gent. He was growling quietly, marking the sniper's skin for his own, claiming it as his. Ray had no choice but to oblige, hips still moving in rhythmic circles, not really getting any of the friction he wanted. He wasn't completely hard yet, but if Ryan continued, he was going to get there.  
The gent shifted, moving his knees between Ray's legs before spreading them. He moved quickly, his hips giving a firm thrust into Ray's backside and forcing a moan out of the lad, a thin blush appearing on his cheeks.  
"I fuckin' hate it when you do that shit, man."  
"Pity."  
Ray rolled his eyes. Despite the fact they'd only been hooking up for a few weeks, Ryan seemed to know his body so well now. Ray's stomach and sides were ticklish, the insides of his thighs were quite sensitive, and he liked the feeling of Ryan grinding into his ass. Ryan did it again, hard enough this time to scoot Ray an inch across the floor, and it got the same noise of out him; a weak cry.  
  
"C'mon, Rye, lemme' blow you."  
"No."  
"What the fuck? What does 'no' mean, what are you-"  
Ryan's mouth was back on his own again, punishing him. Ryan bit and took what he wanted and Ray happily gave it up, responding with more soft noises, just barely audible over the quiet thump of music that surrounded them. Ray's joint had long since burned out on the wooden floor, leaving a tiny scorch mark that Ray couldn't be bothered to be interested in. Ryan's hands were all over him, a thumb pressed into his throat and sporadically cutting off his air supply, the other still on his chest, fingers raking down and pulling and pinching.  
  
The hand moved all the way down, beginning to feel Ray through the fabric of the tight jeans he wore. Ray swallowed thickly and let out a noise, eyes beginning to shut as Ryan allowed the lad to rut into his hand between them. Ryan was aroused, certainly, but now he was far more intrigued by making Ray come in his pants.  
"Stop it, babe, I don't have extra clothes." Ray was whining now and Ryan relented, fingers still wrapped as a loose threat about his throat. With a precise calculation Ryan was opening Ray's pants, having done this before with one hand, drawing out the process until he was certain that Ray was going to explode. Ryan left the belt dangling and shifted the button, then pulled the zipper down.  
Ray lifted his hips to allow for Ryan to give a little tug, pulling the pants down a few inches, just enough to get access to Ray's groin. He was tenting his boxer briefs, a faint spot of dampness on the dark pink cotton that hugged so tight to his cock it outlined the shape of it perfectly.  
  
"Why do you always wear such tight underwear?"  
"Makes my dick look good."  
Ryan couldn't disagree. He pulled those down, too, watching as Ray sprung free. Six fat inches, uncircumcised, a little veined on the underside and perfect to Ryan.  
Returning the favor, Ryan pushed his own fingers into Ray's mouth, wordlessly ordering him to get them wet. The sniper complied, making quite the show of sucking off Ryan's fingers, trying to blow them far more than he was actually trying to lubricate them. Ryan rolled his eyes and Ray let out a sound that was like laughter, licking a smear across his palm and getting the job done properly.  
  
Ryan's hand moved back down, curling firmly around Ray's cock. The sniper let out a quiet sigh, shutting his eyes and beginning to rock his hips into Ryan's touch.  
"Fuck, that feels good," Ray murmured, opening his eyes and looking at Ryan while the gent tended to him. He started off slow as usual, enjoying the build up until Ray was mewling at him like an animal in heat. Ray continued to mumble obscenities, eyes opening and closing at random intervals, Ryan shutting him up sometimes as the hand bore down into his throat again.  
"What are you thinking about?" Ryan purred, smirking ever so slightly. He knew that Ray's mind would wander no matter what the situation, and he was curious as to what was going through the sniper's head right now.  
"Fucking you," Ray mumbled, struggling to even take a breath.  
"Go on."  
Ray gagged on the unfamiliar pang of shyness, licking his lips before he could continue. "You pinning me down and choking me." A whimper when Ryan's hand sped up, then slowed down. "Making me come all over myself."  
"You want that? You want me to fuck you until you can't see straight, until you lose your voice from begging for me?"  
"Shit, _fuck_ , yeah..." Ray groaned and arched, biting at his lower lip. Ryan's pace had increased and his head ducked down, just long enough to spit onto Ray's cock. It was a rude act that was somewhat uncharacteristic for him, but it wasn't like he was strolling about with lube in his pocket.  
  
It worked for the sniper. His breath hitched and his brow knit up, the rocking of his hips growing a little harder, slowing down as Ryan got faster.  
"You're gonna' make me come..."  
"Lift up your shirt."  
Ray's hands moved rapidly, grabbing the bottom of his hoodie and shirt and pulling them up in a quick tug, exposing the soft, brown skin to Ryan. Watching him closely, Ryan waited until he was right on the cusp of orgasm, his cries growing shorter and more packed together. It was then that Ryan's hand bore down hard, completely cutting off Ray's air supply.  
The sniper rasped silently, his mouth opening in a noiseless cry. A few more firm tugs from Ryan and he was coming. Ray's body stiffened and arched hard, struggling for breath as he shot rope after rope of hot come up his chest, making quite the mess of himself. Ryan taking away his ability to breathe only lengthened the orgasm, his head growing hot and dizzy, his knees buckling and feet kicking just slightly as he arched his hips off the floor, gluttonous for the friction and uncomfortably good pressure.  
  
Ryan released only when Ray's face grew a dangerous shade, still pumping him hard. Ray sucked in an enormous breath and let it out in a loud cry, hands still holding his hoodie up, tugging on it so hard it looked like he was going to shred it. Ray was cursing incessantly, and eventually, the pleas began to turn more desperate, begging Ryan to back off. The gent made sure he squeezed every last from his body before finally releasing.  
If Ryan's goal was to wreck Ray, he certainly had accomplished it. The lad lay beneath him, panting and grunting as post-orgasm waves rocked his body. His neck was plastered in red marks that would _maybe_ be gone by morning, his torso splattered with his own release. There was a line of drool on his chin and Ryan smirked, moving his weight to his knees and using his clean hand to wipe it away.  
  
When Ray came down from the orgasm-high - though he was still pretty stoned - he took his bandanna off completely and used it to wipe down his chest, though he would still probably need a shower when he got home. Ryan took the item when he was done and cleaned off his own hand, figuring there was nothing better to do with it than to shove it in his back pocket.  
"Shout out to _that_ shit right there," Ray breathed, finally opening his eyes. He grinned up at Ryan and the expression was mostly returned. Lifting his hips, Ray fixed his clothing and managed to push himself into a sitting position, letting out a sigh and running his hands through his hair.  
  
"What do they say when they christen a place?" Ray's head was cocked to the side.  
"Uhh... God is great, God is good, we thank you now for this food?"  
"Close enough. Anyway, we have exorcised the demon." Ryan rolled his eyes so hard they could have slid out his ass. He got to his feet and reached down, allowing Ray to take his hand and hop back up.  
"Where is my board?"  
"Probably on Mars by now. Why did you fall over?"  
"I knew it would make you come over to me."  
Ryan couldn't hide the smirk. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to Ray's mouth and took his hand, lacing their fingers.  
"Come on, dear, let's get your board and get out of here."  
Ray led the way. Ryan followed.

**Author's Note:**

> hello my dudes it's ya boi 666 fps
> 
> this fic was directly inspired by the song 'juke jam' by chance the rapper; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IMWlacWhlZw
> 
> tried to include more dialogue, which is something that i struggle with a lot but i think i am getting better? maybe? i know i've made ray more insufferable so shout out to that lmfao
> 
> anyway that's the end lmfao bYE


End file.
